


Friends with Benefits with Tentacles

by andimeantittosting (Saylee)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alien Castiel (Supernatural), Awkward Conversations, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Consentacles, Crack Treated Seriously, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Just assume I had a field day with the tropes, M/M, Miscommunication, Octo!Castiel, Roommates, Tentacle Porn, Tentacles, Watching Porn Together, fluff and crack and smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 17:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/pseuds/andimeantittosting
Summary: Dean's never been embarrassed about his porn collection before, but that was before he found Cas holding his prized copy ofSweet Princess Asuka and the Tentacles of Pleasure. Dean finds himself sweating bullets—because this is Cas, sweet, nerdy Cas. Cas, his friend. Cas, his roommate. Cas, his—only slightly out-of-control—crush.Cas, with his big, blue eyes and muscular arms and perpetual sex hair.Cas, with his tentacles.The last thing he expects is for Cas to suggest they experiment together.





	Friends with Benefits with Tentacles

**Author's Note:**

> What do I even say about my first time writing tentacle fic? I had a ton of fun with this, piling on all my favourite tropes, and I hope it's just as fun to read! 
> 
> I owe a huge amount of gratitude to the wonderful [MalMuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/pseuds/MalMuses), who encouraged me, let me throw ideas at her, cheered me on, and beta-read this fic, all while being an all around awesome person. Thank you, Mal!

Dean’s never been embarrassed about his porn collection before—because, one, that’s what it is: _a collection. _He’s a collector. He’s got everything from old chapbooks to rare VHS tapes, to a set of pristine back issues of Busty Asian Beauties from the forties.

(“That’s racist.” Sam had scowled when he’d discovered that acquisition, and Dean had rolled his eyes.

“_That’s racist._ You don’t say. I’ve only spent the last four years studying the history of othering and exotification in pornography, but you think somehow I’ve missed the fact that Busty Asian Beauties is racist. Thanks a lot, Sam.”

He had waited until Sam looked suitably chastened and had started to stammer out an apology, before he had whipped out a particular VHS tape with a flourish. “Besides, this is what I really wanted to show you: _Sweet Princess Asuka Meets the Tentacles of Pleasure. _Take a look at this; this is a real treasure!” He’d thrust the cardboard cover under Sam’s nose, laughing with delight at the expression of horrified disgust that spread across his face.

“Gross, Dean! Keep your weird alien fetish porn away from me.”)

And that brings him to reasons two and three for why he usually has no shame about his porn collection. Two, he’s a scholar, and this is for his thesis, thank you very much. And three, Sam’s reactions whenever Dean shows him a new piece are _priceless_. It’s like the kid thinks Dean’s never seen the _Casa Erotica_ DVDs he found tucked under Sam’s mattress back when they were both living under Bobby’s roof.

Point is, Dean’s never been embarrassed to have someone look at his porn. He wouldn’t show Bobby, obviously, but even Charlie, who had noped her way past all the dicks in Dean’s collection (so he’s an equal-opportunity guy), had bonded with him over their shared admiration for Belladonna’s work.

But now Cas is turning _Sweet Princess Asuka_ over and over in his hands, a furrow above his brows, and Dean finds himself sweating bullets—because this is Cas, sweet, nerdy Cas. Cas, his friend. Cas, his roommate. Cas, his—only slightly out-of-control—crush.

Cas, with his big, blue eyes and muscular arms and perpetual sex hair.

Cas, with his tentacles.

Each one is thick and long, glistening purple-black, and capable of sinuous movements that leave Dean mesmerized and half-hard if he watches them for too long. They taper from the delicate tips, all the way up, until each one is nearly as thick as Dean's thigh where they join with Cas's body, and from time to time, Dean's caught glimpses of the suckers that line the undersides. He tries not to think too hard about how good they'd feel against his skin—at least not while his alien roommate is in the room.

When the door is closed, all bets are off.

Which is why Dean is so horrified to see the video Cas is holding. If his friend knew how many times Dean had jerked off to it, imagining the tentacles belonged to Cas—there'd be no coming back from that.

*****

Some people had been wary when the Interplanetary Cooperative Assembly had first made contact with Earth. There had been mass panics and anti-alien protests, calls to arm the human race against extraterrestrial invasion. But Dean hadn't been part of them.

While he hadn't had as direct a pull towards their newly discovered neighbours as Sam, who dove into learning about the ICA's history and laws, or Charlie, who had giddily embraced their new tech, he'd been able to envision all kinds of new horizons opening. When his ad for a roommate had been answered by an alien exchange student, he'd been ready and willing to welcome Castiel into his home.

Castiel was a med student from a planet called Ceraff. When the ICA had made contact with Earth, he'd made the decision to transfer to an Earth school, the better to familiarize himself with the anatomy and medical needs of the newest additions to intergalactic society.

"Hopefully, we will be working closely with humanity in the years to come," he had explained to Dean. "Anyone who wants a medical role on any starship would do well to learn about our newest partners."

"Cool, dude," had been Dean's less than eloquent response. In his defense, it was hard to form thoughts when someone straight out of his wet dreams stood in his living room and announced they were studying to be a doctor—incidentally one of Dean's _other_ wet dreams. He took a moment to mourn the fact that cowboy boots and tentacles simply weren't compatible. _But maybe Cas would be willing to wear a cowboy hat?_

Okay, not cool. Cas was here for a place to live, not to have Dean creeping on him. Dean shut down his train of thought, hard, and focused his attention on whether he and Castiel would be compatible as roommates. The novelty of sharing an apartment with an alien would wear off pretty quickly if, for instance, he regularly flooded the bathroom or kept unspeakable hours or couldn't wash a dish.

But as it turned out, Cas did none of those things, so there was no reason—besides Dean's inappropriate attraction—for him not to move in. Dean wasn't about to admit to his attraction, so Cas had moved in the next week.

It was awesome.

Cas was a great roommate, tidy, considerate. He was funny too, in his own dry way, and while he didn't get any of Dean's human pop culture references, Dean didn't get any of his Ceraffian ones either. They had fun educating each other, in any case. And then there was the way Cas listened, all that intense focus, as if anything Dean had to say was the most important thing he'd ever heard.

So it was no surprise that, by six months in, Dean considered Cas one of the best friends he'd ever had.

But he hadn't shown him his porn collection. Sure, Cas knew vaguely what Dean was studying, but some part of Dean just hadn't been ready for this exact moment.

Castiel regards the VHS tape with a slight furrow in his brow. Dean lets out a silent prayer of relief that the cover art is not _quite_ as explicit as the film itself, though it's certainly evocative enough for Cas to get the gist.

"Humans enjoy this." It's a statement more than a question, Castiel digesting this new (interesting? disgusting? Dean can't be sure) fact about humans.

"Er, yes," he answers, because he has to say something. "I mean, some do. Enough. It's a niche genre, but still—a genre," he finishes weakly, as Castiel pulls more items from his shelves, the better to understand this strange human phenomenon.

"I mean"—Dean scratches the back of his head awkwardly, as Cas continues his examination—"I guess it's a bit more problematic now that we know you guys are real and all…"

Problematic?" Castel cocks his head to the side. "Why? In the Interplanetary Assembly it is not unheard of for there to be attraction and even sex between different species. So long as everyone is sapient and consenting, I don't see the issue."

"Um," says Dean.

"I am disturbed by these, however," Castiel holds out a couple DVDs as if they might bite him. "From the descriptions it sounds an awful lot like they are focused on—"

"—Rape?" Dean asks, taking the cases from him. "Ugh, yeah. Unfortunately common in the genre. I've got these for my research, but there's a reason I prefer _Sweet Princess Asuka_. I'm a sucker for consentacles."

"Consentacles." The corner of Castiel's mouth twitches upward. "That's clever. I like it." Thankfully, he seems prepared to overlook Dean's terrible sucker pun. Dean can already feel his face turning brick red at what he had accidentally revealed.

"Anyway," he says, and stalls there. For lack of anything else to keep himself out of trouble, he gathers his videos from Cas and begins replacing them on the shelf, careful to stick to his finicky filing system. When he's done, there's still one space left, and he turns to Cas, who is still holding onto _Princess Asuka _and watching Dean with an unreadable look on his face.

"Dude…" Dean says.

"I think I would like to watch this," Cas announces.

"Um," says Dean.

"You could watch with me, to explain the appeal to a human," Cas goes on, as if he is not giving Dean heart failure, right here and right now. "And then, perhaps, we could try it together."

"Together," Dean repeats faintly. "As in, you and me."

Castiel's eyes narrow in that squint that means Dean's being particularly odd. "Yes, that's what I meant. Unless you don't want—"

"I want!" Dean cuts him off, and colours up to the roots of his hair at how desperate that makes him. "But," he asks, feeling faintly hysterical, "are you even attracted to humans?" _Are you even attracted to me?_

Castiel tilts his head to the side, considering. "Not all humans, certainly, but on the whole, yes, I think so. After all, your upper bodies are much the same as my species'."

"Except for the nipples," Dean can't resist saying.

Castiel glances down at his own chest, clothed in an AC/DC shirt Dean is ninety percent sure is stolen from his own wardrobe. Castiel had taken quickly to t-shirts after his arrival on Earth, preferring them to the more restrictive fashions of his people. "Yes, except for the nipples," he agrees. "I have to say, I find them… intriguing."

"Uh," says Dean, who may or may not be known to brag about his perky nipples.

"Also, the lack of exoskeleton is a plus," Cas goes on, oblivious to Dean's mental meltdown. "I know some people find them exciting, but I like that humans seem soft and touchable."

"You don't say," Dean says, and it comes out as a strangled wheeze. Castiel's eyes fly up to him, looking wide and startled, possibly because Dean is on the verge of an aneurysm.

A tentacle lifts from the floor and softly curls itself around the curve of Dean's cheek. Blue eyes way too fucking earnest, Cas says, "And of course, I'm very attracted to you in particular."

Dean is not going to survive this.

*****

It takes Cas withdrawing his tentacle and putting some space between them, but somehow, Dean manages to get his brain back online long enough to get the ancient VCR he rigged together hooked up to his TV.

“We’re watching in here,” he says. “No way I’m dragging all this crap out to the living room. Where’d that tape go?” He sticks his hand behind him and wiggles his fingers, and obligingly, Cas hands over the case. Sliding it out of the cardboard box, Dean pops it into the player and picks up the remote, heading back towards his bed. He props a couple of pillows against the headboard, sliding back so he can sit comfortably, and shoots a questioning glance at Cas, who is still hovering over by the door. “Well?” He pats the spot beside him. “Come get comfy and we’ll get this show rolling.” He tries for a cocky grin, and it is Cas’s turn to look awkward as he glides over to the bed and climbs onto it.

A thick tentacle brushes against Dean’s leg through his jeans, and he swallows heavily. The movie hasn’t even started, and he’s already sporting a bit of chub. Castiel apologizes and tries to move the limb away, but the fact is, it’s a narrow bed, and Cas has _a lot _of limbs.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean says in a voice that aims for casual and comes out hoarse. “We’re gonna be touching plenty soon.” He makes the mistake of looking into Cas’s eyes as he says it, and the heat there nearly has him demanding that _soon _become _now._

But Cas wants to watch the movie, so Dean manages to tear his eyes away and press play. The movie starts from the beginning, making him glad he’s always stuck with the motto ‘be kind, rewind,’ even if these tapes are only for his own use. There’s a brief introduction to the beautiful, scantily clad Princess Asuka, but it doesn’t take long before the eponymous tentacles of pleasure enter the picture. As one tentacle glides under Asuka’s skirt to stroke her through her panties and another curls delicately around one of her generous breasts, Dean sneaks a glance at Cas, who is watching, rapt.

“Is that how you’d like to be touched, Dean?” Cas asks, voice gravelly. “With my tentacles? Gentle like that?”

Dean’s dick jumps in his confining jeans and he stifles a whimper. “Yeah, Cas,” he manages to get out. “I think any way you’d want to touch me would be good.”

“And would you like that?” Cas asks, as Asuka opens her mouth to take a thick tentacle inside. Dean can only make a strangled noise of agreement, because it’s coming up to his favourite part, where the tentacles lift the princess into the air.They strip her lovingly, and part her legs so a tentacle can press inside her, drawing noises of bliss from her stretched lips.

Beside Dean, Castiel frowns. “I don’t believe this part will be possible with your anatomy, Dean.”

“Well, no,” Dean says absently, watching as the tentacles drive Asuka wild with pleasure. “But there’s always my ass.” As if on cue, the tentacles on screen spread the princess’s legs wider so that one can push into that hole, filling her completely. Asuka moans around the flesh in her mouth, and Dean lets out an answering groan, grinding the heel of his hand against the hard line of his dick.

Cas’s eyes have left the screen and are focused on where a dark patch is growing on Dean’s jeans, highlighting the head of his dick. “Dean,” he says, a low, desperate rasp. “I want to be inside of you. Please, let me—”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean breathes, hand going to the button of his jeans. “Come on, get inside me.”

It seems that that’s enough invitation for Cas, who is quick to climb on top of Dean and capture his lips in a deep probing kiss that has Dean moaning into his mouth. Cas’s tongue is extremely skilled, and Dean can only hope that it’s a preview of what’s to come.

Dean’s attempts to shed his clothes are hampered by the extra pair of hands, and several eager tentacles, that attempt to help. At this point, his jeans are open and halfway down his ass, exposing the dark patch on his underwear where his cock is leaking, and his shirt is rucked up crookedly under one armpit, but he’s burning for more contact. Finally, reluctantly, he pushes Cas back, and Cas goes, but the expression on his face is so much like a kicked puppy that Dean can’t help but follow him up to plant another, gentle, kiss on his lips.

“Gotta get naked,” he admonishes, pulling back so he can tug his shirt off over his head and toss it into the corner of the room. “You too.” He leans back, shimmying out of his jeans and underwear, biting his lip as Cas gets with the program and pulls off his own shirt, exposing miles of tanned, toned (nipple-less) chest. God, he’s desperate to get his mouth on that skin.

More interesting than Cas’s bare chest, however, is the fact that he suddenly seems to have more tentacles than Dean remembers. Normally, he has eight, like any Earth cephalopod, but there are definitely two more there that Dean has never noticed before. In contrast to the rest of his dark purple tentacles, these two are a deep magenta, their suckers less pronounced, though still present, and they are leaking a viscous, slightly cloudy fluid from a slit near the tips. Dean wants a taste.

“Those are new,” he manages in a hoarse voice, and Cas’s eyes fly to his from where they had been fixed on Dean’s nudity. He flushes a magenta colour that matches his—those must be his dicks (plural!), right?

“Oh,” Cas says, twining the two new limbs together in an embarrassed fashion. “Yes, these are my”—he speaks a word in his language that Dean doesn’t know—”my sexual organs. They are normally retracted behind my other tentacles.”

Somehow, Castiel’s embarrassment helps Dean feel a little more at ease, and he determines to help Cas relax as well. “So, you’re a grower, not a shower, huh?” He gives Cas a cheesy wink and is rewarded when that blush spreads further. “And what a shower you are,” he adds in his best lascivious purr. “Can I touch?”

Cas’s nod is eager, and before Dean can even reach forward, one of those magenta tentacles is twining its way around his wrist, wriggling its way into his hand. His hand closes on firm, slippery flesh, and Cas gives a full-body shudder, a noise that is almost a whimper coming out of his mouth.

Dean gives his hand an experimental slide up and down, twisting his wrist as he gets back to the top. The way is eased by the copious amounts of (precome? It must be precome) that Cas is producing, and the bumps of his suckers kiss Dean’s palm as they go. Cas moans and twists his other dick-tentacle around one of the regular ones, but he seems as fascinated by Dean’s anatomy as by what Dean is doing to him. He leans forward and wraps one of his hands around Dean’s dick, stroking it in time with Dean’s movements. Soon, one of his purple tentacles replaces his hand, engulfing Dean’s dick in its coils. Dean shivers as a sucker caresses the head gently.

“Cas,” he begs, reaching with his spare hand for the other magenta tentacle. “Put that in my mouth?” His chest rises and falls as he pants under Castiel’s ministrations.

And then the tip of Castiel’s neglected tentacle is tracing the seam of Dean’s lips, and Dean darts his tongue out to taste the smear of precome-like fluid on his lower lip. It’s salty like the ocean and slightly musky, with an undertone of something _alien,_ and Dean is immediately addicted to the taste. He parts his lips, twining his tongue around the tip of the tentacle, drawing it into his mouth. Cas presses forward, filling him more and more. Dean moans around his mouthful and Cas begins to thrust gently, stopping just short of choking Dean each time. Dean’s lips stretch around him in a satisfying way.

While Castiel slowly fucks Dean’s mouth, a tentacle wraps itself around around Dean’s free wrist, tugging until his arm is pinned over his head. A second one captures the hand that is stroking Castiel, and Dean obligingly releases him, allowing that hand to be drawn up to join the other. The first tentacle wraps around both wrists, holding them in place, as the second trails its way down Dean’s arm to caress over his chest. A sucker catches on Dean’s nipple and he shivers in Cas’s grasp. He rewards him by stroking his tongue over the tentacle in his mouth.

“Dean,” Castiel gasps, a quaver in his voice. “Can I—?”

Dean nods and makes an affirming noise around his mouthful. Immediately, there is a tentacle winding around each of his legs, suckers caressing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs as his legs are drawn apart, opening him to Castiel’s gaze.

Dean only has a moment to feel exposed, before Castiel’s tentacle is there, trailing over his perineum, back to his hole. He doesn’t push in right away, teasing Dean with a light touch as he slicks him with his thick precome, as slippery as any lube Dean has ever bought, and much more exciting because it’s from Cas.

Cas presses against him, but doesn’t go in, and Dean moans. If his mouth weren’t full, he’d be begging. Instead, he arches, pushing back against Cas, who thankfully gets the idea.

Just the tip pushes in at first, wiggling slightly, and it’s like no sensation Dean has ever felt. Aided by the thick fluid, Castiel’s tentacle goes deeper and deeper, widening as it goes, until Dean feels stretched open and more full than he’s ever been. His own cock leaks furiously against his stomach as Cas begins thrusting, matching the rhythm he’s set on Dean’s mouth, making a deep, wounded sound as Dean clenches around him.

After that, Dean is in a haze of sensation, stuffed full and stretched wide, the bumps of Cas’s suckers dragging against his slick insides, his jaw taking on a satisfying ache. Yet more of Castiel’s tentacles caress his chest, his stomach, his legs. A hand winds into his hair, another one clenching his bicep, and when Dean manages to open his eyes, Cas’s gaze is fixed on him, his face slack with pleasure, hungry, desperate noises pouring out of his mouth to match Dean’s own.

In the grip of Cas’s tentacle, his cock is hard enough to hammer nails, and when the tip of yet another tentacle curiously traces his stretched rim, Dean is gone, spilling thick and white over his own stomach and chest, one spurt even hitting him in the chin.

His orgasm seems to go on and on, and Castiel gathers him in his tentacles, holding him tight as he shudders and moans his way through it.

At last, Dean lets himself go limp in Castiel’s grip, lolling back and letting his over-sensitive body be used as Cas picks up his pace. Dean moans helpfully around the tentacle in his mouth and clenches around the one in his ass, and then both orifices are being flooded with thick, warm, bitter liquid as Cas shakes apart above him, all his limbs tightening around Dean, almost to the point of being too constricting, but not quite.

Dean struggles to swallow the come in his mouth, and Castiel withdraws his tentacle, painting Dean’s bottom lip and chin with the fluid. Castiel releases Dean’s wrists, and his arms find their way around Cas’s back, holding him through the last shivering aftershocks, as he struggles to catch his own breath.

Gingerly, Cas pulls out of Dean’s ass, and Dean whimpers a little as the last of the suckers catches on his over-sensitized rim. He clenches, feeling empty, and there’s the curious sensation of come slipping out of him. His thighs are sticky with it, and his whole front and his face are a mess, but Cas doesn’t seem to have any interest in letting Dean go clean up. Instead, he wraps his arms, and most of his limbs (the two dick-tentacles seem to have retracted again for now) around Dean, like—well—like an octopus.

Dean chuckles tiredly to himself, but he doesn’t let Cas in on the joke, since he probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Dean’s worn out and pleasantly sore, and Cas’s limbs are very comfortable, and Dean’s eyes are suddenly heavy. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let himself doze for just a little bit?

Dean drifts off to the sounds of Cas’s breathing and Princess Asuka still being railed on the screen.

*****

It’s not a one time thing. In fact, when Dean wakes the first time to a staticky screen and Cas slipping out of bed with an apology about having to go to class, his roommate interrupts him before he can say anything in response, and adds, “I enjoyed that very much. Perhaps we could do it again sometime?”

Needless to say, Dean is quick to agree.

Cas slips out of the room to shower and get ready to go, and Dean, for whom today is a writing day, is left to assess. The sheets are unsalvageable, that much is obvious, crusty and disgusting now that Dean is no longer wrapped up in Cas’s fantastic body as a distraction. He mentally adds laundry to his to-do list for the day. Kicking off the top sheet, he stretches and yawns, taking stock of the pleasant ache in his muscles and jaw; he feels well-used, in the best way.

A glance down his naked body reveals something he hadn’t thought of before. He’s covered in small, circular, sucker-shaped bruises, like so many hickeys. They cover his torso, and rope around his wrists and thighs where Castiel’s tentacles had wrapped Dean’s limbs. Experimentally, Dean pokes one, finding it satisfyingly tender, the perfect reminder of what he and Cas had done.

Maybe not anything anyone else needs to see, though. After all, Dean is hardly a teenager, and besides, this feels private, between him and Cas.

And it’s something Cas wants to repeat, he thinks to himself with a small thrill.

Luckily, Dean’s planning on working on his thesis at home today, so he doesn’t need to worry too much about what he looks like. Instead, once Cas has left for class, Dean hops in a hot shower, letting the steam billow around him, and then dresses in a pair of sweatpants and a soft, old t-shirt that he steals back from Cas. He throws on a long-sleeved plaid shirt to take the sheets down to the laundry, but ends up slipping it off to hang over the back of his chair while he works.

That’s where Cas finds him when he comes home after six hours of classes. Dean types away, laptop open on the kitchen table, a burst of inspiration having carried him through the afternoon.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greets, sounding almost shy. “I brought pizza.” He flips open the box and Dean closes his eyes to breathe in the scent of dough and sauce and gooey, gooey cheese.

“Oh my god,” Dean says. “Marry me.”

Castiel blinks at him for a long minute, and Dean, realizing what he said, blinks back.

At last, Castiel recovers, and in a voice that sounds more strangled than usual says, “In some species, what we did last night _is _tantamount to a marriage ceremony.” When Dean continues to stare at him, more wide-eyed than before, if possible, he blurts out, “Not my species. It was—it was a joke.”

“A joke, right.” Dean blinks again and shakes his head, clearing it of the wild ideas clamouring for his attention. He clears his throat. “But seriously, the pizza smells awesome. Thanks, man.”

Dean’s discomfort is worth it for the way Cas’s smile starts in his eyes, his whole face seeming to beam, even though he barely moves his lips. “I’ll get the paper towels.”

They eat together over paper towels and beers, Dean’s laptop closed up and pushed to one side. Despite their initial awkwardness, they soon find their footing with each other again, and when Cas starts telling Dean about that day’s classes, the conversation flows from there. They meander from topic to topic, and it’s only when Dean is expounding on the virtues of his favourite medical drama, Dr. Sexy—usually a bone of contention, as Cas is horrified by the show’s medical practices—that he realizes that Cas has fallen silent, his gaze focused on Dean’s wrists, where the bruises from his suckers stand out stark against the freckled skin.

Dean can’t tell if Cas is fascinated or horrified, and Cas doesn’t seem to have any intention of voicing his thoughts, so Dean snaps his fingers in his direction. “Earth to Cas,” he says, and snickers at the perplexed look Cas shoots him. “You alright there?”

“I—” Cas gestures at the marks on Dean’s skin. “I left bruises on you.”

The poor guy sounds so concerned, but also, Dean’s pretty sure he can detect an undertone of lust in there, so he decides to throw him a bone. “You did. And they’re awesome.” He places his half-eaten slice of pizza down on the paper towel so that he can encircle one wrist with the other hand and give it a slight squeeze, relishing the tenderness of the marks.

Cas watches Dean avidly and his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “You like them,” he says, a hint of that raspy quality that Dean is beginning to associate with arousal creeping into his voice.

“Yeah,” says Dean, his own voice dropping to match. “I do.”

Cas’s eyes are dark when they meet Dean’s. “Would you—when we’re done eating—would you—?”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

Dean has never eaten a pizza so quickly in his life.

The orgasm that follows might be one of his quickest on record as well, though thankfully there are several more to get through before Castiel wraps Dean’s newly boneless form up in his arms.

They stay that way, even after Dean puts on Dr. Sexy, and Cas complains his way through it.

*****

“Holy shit, Cas, do that again!”

Obligingly, Castiel repeats the swirling motion of his _very _agile tongue over the head of Dean’s dick, and Dean’s back arches, simultaneously driving his cock further into Cas’s throat and shoving himself down further on the tentacle in his ass.

“Jesus christ,” Dean pants, riding the wave of sensation as Cas curls another tentacle lightly around Dean’s neck. He doesn’t tighten it, doesn’t even press down a little bit, but just knowing he could if he wanted to is enough to have Dean hurtling towards orgasm at light speed.

As friends with benefits go, Cas has proven himself awesome—out of this world, even, though when Dean had said as much, Cas’s eyroll had encompassed almost his entire body. They’ve been sleeping together for nearly a month now. Cas is a generous, attentive, inventive lover, open to just about anything Dean suggests, and seemingly as hungry for Dean as Dean is for him. More than once since this has started, Dean has caught Cas staring at him like Dean is water in the desert. Whenever he does, it’s only a matter of minutes before whatever they were doing is forgotten, and they end up in bed (or on the couch, or against the wall, or once—memorably—spread out on the kitchen table).

Also, shower sex is a hell of a lot easier (and more fun) when your partner’s limbs come equipped with their own set of no-slip suckers.

And that’s hardly the best thing about the suckers. Dean hadn’t been wrong when he’d fantasized about how much he’d like the pull of them on his skin. It’s almost enough to make him regret not having taken his friend Donna up on her offer to try cupping at a party she’d thrown a few years ago, but it also means he gets to experience this for the first time with Cas, a truth that means far more to him than it should.

As if Cas knows what he’s thinking, the tentacle curled around his throat caresses his jaw, catching his skin in tiny, sucking kisses. Dean’s sweat-slicked torso and limbs are mottled over with perfect, circular bruises, some fresh, some fading, from every time they have done this. Dean loves every one.

The tentacle inside Dean turns just so, pressing against his prostate, and Dean’s back bows as he comes with a shout. Cas swallows his release, fucking him through it, until finally Dean sprawls bonelessly onto the bed with a whimper, Cas still filling him.

Concerned blue eyes peer at him as Cas releases his cock, and Dean smiles hazily, somehow summoning the energy to lift a hand and run it through Cas’s unruly dark hair. He tugs playfully at the strands, and Cas shifts forward with a groan, inadvertently pushing his tentacle deeper into Dean.

Cas shudders and bites his lip, eyes squeezing shut as he visibly fights for control. “Can I come in you, Dean? Is that okay?” And christ, even after a month of almost non-stop fucking, Cas still thinks to ask if he can make a mess of Dean.

Is it any wonder Dean’s in love with the guy?

Dean doesn’t voice the sentiment, of course. That’s not what this is. Instead, he takes Cas’s other magenta tentacle in hand, stroking it in time with the way Cas thrusts in him, revelling in the almost-whimper that falls from Cas’s lips.

“In me, on me. However you want it, Cas. He tugs Cas forward with the hand in his hair and nips gently at his ear. “You feel so fucking good. One day you’re gonna put both of these inside me.” Cas moans helplessly, and Dean grins. “Come on baby, you’re so hot when you come. You gonna come for me?” He follows it up with another tug to Cas’s hair, just the way he knows Cas likes it, and then Cas is shuddering and coming, filling Dean and coating his chest with it, hot and sticky and deliciously filthy.

“Dean.” Cas buries his face in Dean’s shoulder, pressing open-mouthed, breathless kisses to the skin. “Dean, Dean, Dean.”

“That’s it, Cas.” Dean strokes him through it, his other hand petting gently through Cas’s hair.

“_Dean.”_ It’s like Cas’s orgasm has robbed him of all his other words. Gradually, his thrusts slow and subside, and he lowers himself carefully to lie against Dean’s side, tentacles instinctively moving to hold him close. Dean’s heart swells.

“You okay there, buddy?” he asks, after a long minute where Cas fails to lift his head.

“Mmph,” is Cas’s reply, but he sounds contented enough.

Dean snorts quietly and wraps his own arms around Cas. The details, like Dean being in love with his fuckbuddy, can wait.

*****

“What’s that on your neck?” Sam asks, and just like that, Dean’s regretting the decision to meet up with his brother and friends for a late brunch, a meal he’d only agreed to because he knows that he and Cas have been neglecting their friend group shamefully in favour of frequent, filthy tentacle sex. Dean doesn’t willingly leave the house before noon on a weekend for much else.

“On my neck?” Dean repeats, not immediately clocking what Sam must mean.

At least, not until Cas’s eyes meet his, wide and guilty, and then realization sinks in. Dean’s hand flies to his neck, covering the sucker marks that must have been left behind from last night’s little foray into breathplay. His own eyes feel as wide as Cas’s where they stare at each other. He feels a tentacle slide around his ankle in a silent apology.

“Okay, what’s with you?” Sam asks, and beside him, Charlie gasps, putting two and two together.

“Oh sweet Merlin, you didn’t!”

Dean fights the urge to bury his face in his hands. He’s pretty sure his face is on fire.

“Didn’t what?” Jo demands, and Charlie quickly grabs her arm and makes a series of complicated gestures that soon have Jo cackling. “Oh my god, they totally did.”

“Did what?” Sam asks, frustration mounting in his voice. He’s never liked being the last one to know something, which means that at least in the midst of his humiliation, Dean gets to enjoy his brother’s bitchface turning bitchier as Charlie and Jo continue to giggle without sharing their revelation.

It’s Ash who takes pity on Sam, patting him companionably on the forearm. “What they’re not telling you, compadre, is that your brother’s been getting some sweet, sweet alien lovin’ from Castiel over there. Some xenophile action. A good old-fashioned tentacle dicking-down.”

“All right, all right,” Dean complains, already mortified enough without the whole diner hearing what he’s been getting up to. Beside him, Castiel’s face is lit up with that magenta blush, and he’s sunk as far down in his chair as his tentacles will allow.

“You two are sleeping together?” Sam gestures incredulously back and forth between Dean and Cas, as if somehow Ash hadn’t been clear enough.

“Uh, yeah.” Dean bites out, deciding to grab the bull by the horns—the alien by the tentacle-dick, whatever. Besides, it’s never not a good time to horrify his little brother with his sexual exploits. “You know how I feel about tentacles,” he adds, with a ludicrous waggle of his eyebrows. He watches Sam go through an entire face journey, enough conflicting expressions passing over his face in mere seconds that he could run for a world record. Smirking, he asks, “Got a problem with that, Sammy?”

“No…? No!” Sam appears to have settled on earnest for his expression of choice. “I’m, uh, really happy for you guys. I know you’ve had feelings for Cas for a long time now, Dean, and—”

Sam keeps talking, but in Dean’s brain, everything’s come screeching to a halt. Sam has inadvertently turned the tables on him, revealing the one thing Dean never wanted Cas to know, the one thing that could ruin everything.

“I think it’s really sweet,” Charlie is saying, and Cas is nodding along. Why is he nodding along? Does he not realize what this means, that Dean has been lying to him all this time, hiding his feelings so they can keep having sex?

Jo makes a face. “The two of you are a sickeningly adorable couple, you know that, right?”

This has gone too far.

“No!” Dean blurts. When everyone turns to stare at him as if he’d dropped his pants and shouted ‘Pudding!’, he rushes on, the words spilling from his mouth like some kind of horrible verbal diarrhea. “No, it’s not like that. We’re not a couple, there are no _feelings_. We’re fucking. Just fucking!”

He looks over at Cas for confirmation, but Cas’s face has gone inhumanly pale, and his indecipherable expression looks like it’s carved from granite. And still the words won’t stop.

“We’re—we’re just friends—who fuck. Friends who fuck. Fuckbuddies. I mean, friends with benefits, but, uh, _what benefits_, huh, buddy?” But Cas’s expression hasn’t changed, and he’s holding himself with a stiffness that Dean has never seen from him before. “I mean, the benefits are great,” he persists weakly. “Really, _really _awesome benefits. Best I’ve ever had…” He trails off, an awkward silence swallowing the rest of his words.

Cas won’t even look at him. A fist clenches in Dean’s chest. Cas is sitting here, in Dean’s best Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and not looking at him, or saying anything at all. Charlie leans into Cas’s space, whispering something urgently in his ear, and even Jo has squished in, placing a commiserating hand on Cas’s arm.

Is the discovery that Dean has feelings for him really that bad?

Ash and Sam are silently staring at Dean, and even a few curious diners are peeking discreetly from their booths, hoping for more drama. Dean wishes he could swallow his tongue.

The silence stretches on, punctuated only by the low murmur of whatever Charlie is whispering to an unresponsive Cas.

Finally, Dean can’t take it anymore. “Alright,” he says. He lurches to his feet, the legs of his chair making a hideous scraping noise as he shoves it back too fast. “I’m just gonna—” he waves his hand vaguely towards the exit. “I’ll get—” He fumbles his wallet out of his back pocket, snatches out enough bills to cover his and Cas’s meals, and lets them fall unceremoniously on the table. “I’m gonna go.”

He shoves his chair back further, ignoring the screech of the legs, even as his friends—except Cas—flinch, and stumbles out the door. He makes it as far as his car, where he collapses into the driver’s seat, letting his forehead fall against the wheel.

He’s an absolute dumbass. There’s no way anyone bought his rambling diatribe, which means that Cas definitely knows Dean is in love with him. Knows, and is horrified. And all Dean’s so-called friends have stayed behind to comfort Cas about that terrible fate.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

With nothing else to do, and no other plan, Dean goes home. Fuck it. There’s a Dr. Sexy box set and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s calling his name. So what if Cas comes home and finds Dean wallowing in a blanket cocoon? It’s not like Dean can go any deeper into the depths of humiliation.

And that’s assuming Cas comes home at all. Maybe he’s so disgusted by Dean’s feelings that he’ll move out immediately. Maybe he’ll send Sam by to collect his things. Maybe he’ll leave Earth entirely to get away from Dean. Maybe in a week’s time, he’ll be laughing about the silly, thirsty human with his alien buddies in some alien diner over alien brunch. Maybe—

The door swings open, interrupting both Dean’s ever-more despairing imaginings and Dr. Sexy’s on-screen clinch with Dr. Piccolo. Cas stands there in the doorway, looking wild-eyed and wild-haired, as if he’d been tugging on it, and not in the way he likes Dean to do in bed.

“Dean,” he says blankly, his gaze falling on Dean’s blanketed form on the couch. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling rocks, and despite everything, it sends a shiver down Dean’s spine.

“Uh, hey, Cas,” Dean says, feeling faintly ridiculous. “What’re you doing here?”

“I… live here…” Cas replies, still sounding faintly dazed. “Jo gave me a ride, after you left. I do not like her driving.”

And oh shit, yeah, Dean had been Cas’s ride. A bubble of guilt rises in his chest. “Sorry, man.” He winces. “I just… needed to leave.”

“I think I should move out,” Cas says at the same time, and even though he was expecting it, it hits Dean like a blow to the chest. “It turns out, I have profoundly misunderstood the nature of our relationship.”

Suddenly, Dean’s humiliation and lovesick misery are nothing to the prospect of Cas disappearing entirely. “No way, c’mon man. You don’t gotta move out.” Dean scrambles upright, fighting his way out of his blanket burrito of misery. Somehow, he’s got to convince Cas to stay. “I mean, yeah, I never meant for you to find out this way, and it’s embarrassing as hell, but I can keep myself in check. I’m not asking for anything you can’t give. I haven’t got any expectations. I’ll never say another word about it, scout’s honour. We’ll stop having sex; things’ll go back to how they used to be, and everything will be alright, huh? We can do that, can’t we, Cas?”

“I don’t know.” Cas heaves a sigh and sinks into the other end of the couch, as far from Dean as possible. “It’s all very well to say things will go back to how they were, but, Dean, I don’t know if I can live here with you, feeling the way I do and knowing you don’t feel the same.”

On-screen, a patient is jolted awake with a defibrillator, but it’s nothing to the jolt that goes through Dean at Cas’s words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean demands. “I’m the one who has feelings for you. You’re the one who’s leaving the planet to get away from them!”

“Leaving the—” Cas starts. “I was never leaving the—I was going to find a different apartment, not—” He cuts himself off, Dean’s words finally seeming to register. “You have feelings for me? No. I have feelings for _you_. I thought you knew, Dean, I thought—Mmmph.”

Cas’s words are abruptly cut off as Dean all but launches himself across the couch, plastering their mouths together in a kiss that quickly turns filthy, hungry and devouring and desperate, messy and clashing and triumphant. When they finally break apart, both panting for breath, Cas collapses back against the sofa, and Dean geins, feeling half-wild with elation.

“We’re a couple of dumbasses,” he proclaims, and Cas digs a hand into Dean’s hair, hauling Dean back in for another kiss.

They’re both smiling too hard to keep the kiss going. “I prefer a couple,” Cas says when they part this time. “Less dumb, less ass.”

“Hey.” Dean wiggles his ass on Cas’s lap. “I thought you liked my ass?” He’s rewarded when a tentacle rises to traces along the back of his waistband, the tip dipping just beneath the fabric of his jeans.

“I do,” Cas admits. “I like you.”

“I’m in love with you,” Dean blurts, and colours up to the roots of his hair.

Cas’s many limbs pull him close so they can press their foreheads together. “I’m in love with you, too.”

Their celebration is long and loud and messy and perfect.

*****

“Hey, what’s this?” Sam plucks an unlabelled VHS cassette off Dean’s shelf. “New addition to the collection?”

Dean snatches the tape out of his brother’s hand, tucking it back into pride of place at the end of his tentacle porn section. “None of your business, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam replies.

“Shut up and help me put this frame together. I want to surprise Cas when he gets home.” Swapping his bed out for a new king-size mattress—memory foam, of course—might be a bit of a splurge, but Cas has a lot of extra limbs to fit on a bed, and Dean wants his boyfriend to be comfortable.

Sam gets to work, but he can’t keep his mouth shut for too long. “Seriously, though, what’s on the tape? Normally you can’t wait to rub my face into whatever freaky new thing you’ve laid your hands on.”

Dean can’t help but grin as he answers, “Trust me, Sammy. You don’t want to know.” And he doesn’t. The discovery of an old VHS video camera and all the components in a junk shop had been a boon, putting it together and figuring out how it worked a good project for the long nights when Cas had started his rotations and had to be at the hospital until all hours. But the video they had filmed last weekend, when Dean had finally succeeded in taking both Cas’s tentacle dicks at once—well, that’s for Dean and Cas to enjoy.

Over and over and over again.

Probably on this very bed.


End file.
